The Final Battle
by Maakkel
Summary: Two Armies the size of which have never been seen before in all of Thedas, clash in a battle to determine the fate, not only of Thedas, but of everything. This was the result of being awake at 3am, consider yourself warned


"Commander, where are we headed sir?" A soldier asks as he run up to the commander in question, clutching his bear skin cloak close around his cold better. Few things was as merciless as the snow of the frost backs they were currently crossing.

"The Dales. We are to commence the battle there." He says, running a hand through his golden locks. The last ten years was showing on his face.

"Do you ever regret it sir?" The soldier asks carefully.

"Regret what?"

"Your vow." The soldier says, "every soldier says that you retired to that sanctuary of yours, vowing that if the Herald ever needed you again, all she would have to do was ask and you would pick up your sword again."

The Command stopped in his tracks, and looked the taller soldier over.

"What's your name, lieutenant?" He asked, the emblem on the man's chest told him the rank.

"Thornton, sir."

"Thornton, think of the Herald. When you were promoted, she came and asked for your continuing support of the Inquisition."

"She did yes, but what does this have to do with anything?" Thornton asked, "sir." He quickly added.

"Did you, even for a moment, think about hesitating raising your sword for her? When she was announced Inquisitor, did you have the least amount of doubt that you would follow her. When we all sang after the loss of Haven, did you: at any point, think about laying down your sword if she was to ask you to raise it?" Cullen had raised his voice as he talked, a natural charismatic and natural leader. Several dozen soldiers had stopped to listen.

Thornton didn't need to reply, both he and Commander Cullen with knew the answer. Thornton thought back at the initial moments of the Darkspawn Magister's assault on Haven.

Cullen drew his sword, and turned to address the few rows of soldiers that had gathered in front of the gate to Haven.

"Mages! You have sanction to engage them!" His voice boomed, it wasn't exceptionally loud, but it was powerful and carried itself over the alarm bells and roaring wind without any trouble.

"This is Samson; he will not make it easy!" He turned and pointed his sword toward the looming shade of ancient magic. "Inquisition! With the Herald!"

Thornton didn't recall what the Commander had yelled after that. He was at a distance at that time, and the roar of high moral had drowned out any of the words.

"Let's go. We got two days of marching left." Commander Cullen said, Thornton nodded. He and the other soldiers continued their march with renewed energy.

• • •

Days passed, and the Inquisition filled the area between the cliffs with soldiers, tents, guard posts, and palisades. All of it make-shift, but by no means ineffective. It was made with the hands of Soldiers that had trained for a decade. Soldiers that had fought, darkspawn, demons, red lyrium monstrosities, and worse. Soldiers that had once been simple workers, had picked up swords and shields to aid the Herald of Andraste.

It was the dead of night. Dawn was to come in less than an hour. Stall was a fairly new scout, having joined the inquisition less than three years ago. Once dawn came, it would be his 30-month anniversary. The thought made him smile a little.

"What is it?" Stall looked at his partner, the experienced Squad Leader-Scout Ritts; who had been part of the Inquisition from the very first day.

"Just a jolly thought, that's all." Tanner replied

"Tell me, we got all night; or at least what's left of it." Ritts said, as she pulled back her hood, her blonde hair was cut short in the same style that the Inquisition spy master had used to have it in.

"When dawn comes, I will have been part of this for 30 months."

"Half another year, and you are no longer a newbie." Ritts lightly punched his shoulder "Then you even get to craft your own bow."

"Is that an actual rule?"

"From back long ago, just after we had claimed Skyhold. People came in ridicules quantities, we had no time to craft weapons for the individual, so instead they mass produced simple ones. Though not as effective in combat, it meant that everyone has a weapon."

"I see, that makes sense." Stall took his bow and held it up to inspect in the small amount of light the moon shined from behind it's clouds. He could just outline it.

"I'll be kinda sad to part with this fella thou."

Ritts laughed "That's only if it doesn't break on you midfire, first."

"Don't jinx it" He laughed and lightly hit her shoulder. She overacted as if she had been pushed away, she took two steps and fell onto her back.

"Watch your step." Stall laughed as he stepped forward to give her a hand to pull herself up with. She didn't move.

"Ritts?" He kneeled to get closer to her, when he felt a strange force hit him in the back, pushing him forward. He turned a little and lay on his side, looking at his chest, from where he saw the head of an arrow. He touched it and winced in pain. Something warm flowed onto his fingers. A burning pain suddenly erupted in his chest. He was about to let out a scream, when he felt the feathers of an arrow sitting in the chest of his Squad leader.

"R-tss." The sound was partly muffled as he fell forward, his conscious slowly fading.

It was in the moment just after, that the first alarm bells of the make shift Inquisition camp decided to ring.

• • •

"What's going on?" The Herald shouted as she got out of her tent. Her chest plate wasn't tightened and she was struggling with her helmet, it had gotten caught in one of her long ears, "Leliana! Give me an update!"

The red haired woman was strapping on her own armour as she approached the Herald. "Our scouts reported several sightings of groups out in the dales."

"Right, get Cullen, Cassandra, and Blackwall to ready each of their armies. And have Dorian prepare the mages for magic shields around the palisades, an-"

She was interrupted by an armour-clad mage, with short black hair and a characteristic beard, he had bit a small wound in his own finger, and drew a line of blood across his nose.

"We went over the plan, not twice, not thrice, but four total times back at Skyhold." He placed a relaxing hand on the Herald's shoulder just as she fixed her helmet, "They know exactly what they are to do."

"I know, I just feel like I need to do something."

"You need to prefer your elite team. Meet with them at that gate." He pointed to a gate that pointed west, and was a little to their north of their position. "That's where they spotted the largest concentration."

"Thanks Hawke."

"I'm coming with you by the way."

"But you need to lead the attack mages!"

"I already talked to your Madame de Fer, she agreed that switching our two positions would have a greater effect in talks of long term."

"But you are a blood mage and are in neat of constant healing!"

Hawke clicked her tongue at her: "I am not only a blood mage, I am also a mage, trained in the fine arcane arts. And besides that, I am ten times the melee combatant that the dear Madame is, no offense of course."

Lavellan found it hard to disagree, if she had missed this in her planning, could she have had missed something else? Something critical to the success of the battle.

"Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna join the fight?" The mocking tone and that voice could only belong to one.

"Morrigan?!" Leliana exclaimed, "I thought you had denied the request to aid."

"I did, and I came anyway. I wouldn't want you to make any plans for me, I also brought my son." Both Leliana and the Inquisitor eyed the boy, who towered in about the same height as The Iron Bull.

"Hello." He said politely.

"We will take care of any flying lizard that elf might have." Morrigan said, "But until we see any, we are with you."

"Let's get going. The fighting has already begun!"

• • •

"Finally, they are here, I was afraid I'd miss all the blood." The Iron Bull exclaimed as the Herald came in sight, just as the first peeks of sunlight appeared in the horizon. She arrived with Hawke, Morrigan, and Kieran right behind her.

"We have gotten two additional, and a quick switch." Lavellan began, "so we change the strategy to-"

"No time for that, we got incoming!" Varric shouted, followed by the characteristic sound of Bianca launching arrows.

A dozen or so Elvhan soldiers in the form of purple spirits was charging them, along with another dozen or so elves with the same style of armour that Solas had worn when he Lavellan had last seen him at the events of Halamshiral 10 years ago.

The Iron Bull stood in the middle of the gate, preparing for the oncoming attack. Immediately after, a shield appeared on each of his sides. One belonged to Hawke's younger brother, Carver. The other to the current Guard Captain and commander of Kirkwall's entire military forces; Aveline Vallen!

Behind them, the dwarf Varric and the elf Sera prepared their individual bows. And on top of the palisade gate, three mages by the name of Hawke, Morrigan, and Dalish, prepared their individual magic.

None of it was needed. From seemingly out nowhere, two dozen inquisition warriors appeared and formed two lines between Lavellen's elite force, and the charging forces of Fen'Harel. At the very front, was the seemingly unwoundable warrior, Thom Rainier; also known as Blackwall among the inquisition.

A black scout appeared in front of them "The wolf has been seen on the hills up north!" Thornton shouted, "Get going Inquisitor". He fired an arrow directly at a purple spirit, piercing right through its head and causing it to disappear in an explosion of purple mist.

"That's our que, move out!" Lavellen shouted. The group moved, some slightly disappointed to have been unable to engage in the battle, The Iron Bull was more than slightly disappointed, visibly so.

• • •

At the hills, overlooking the camp of the Inquisition, stood a being who looked exactly like another elven mage. But he was older than any elf in this world, and stronger than any of them could hope to be. He was Fen'Harel, The Dread wolf; The Elven god of betrayal and rebellion.

In this realm, on this earth called Thedas, he was simple known as the apostate elf Solas. He paid none of this mind. His concerns were far greater. He wished to destroy the veil, to unite this world with the fade; just as they had once been.

But these foolish mortals had done nothing but try to stop him. He could see why, it wasn't that he was surprised, just… disappointed. His love for the Inquisitor had been real, as had his guidance. But it had not been enough to sway her to abandon her soldiers and come to his side.

He might be depicted as the god of betrayal and rebellion, but he wouldn't, couldn't, make himself force her to go against her nature, go against herself. That was why he loved her, and why he hated himself for it.

"Fen'Harel, and elven soldier kneeled before him."

"Yes?"

"We have confirmed that the Inquisitor is approaching."

"She is leading?" It wasn't a surprise, but the loss of her arm should have rendered the warrior out of combat for the rest of her life.

"Yes sir, and… there is another thing." The elf seemed hesitant

"Speak. Out with it."

"She… has both arms sir."

"Arms of flesh?"

"I think so."

This confused him, he did not recall any he had met during his time with her, that would have that kind of magic.

"It will not change anything." He stated, sounding much more confident than he felt. He couldn't show doubt now. He needed to win this battle, needed to be strong.

"Sir… what if she has _it_ too?" With this, Solas lost his temper.

"She doesn't! That is simply impossible. The anchor was bound to her hand, which was cut clean of and burned! Now go!" He spun on his heel. His hand was clenching his staff hard, again he had sounded more confident that he was.

• • •

"I see the bastard!" The Iron Bull shouted from the front.

They looked up, and there, on the fore most vantage cliff stood a silhouette with a staff. The head was bald and reflected the morning sun that was still partially hidden behind the horizon.

"Solas!" Lavellan screamed. Not because she wanted to tell him she was there. No, it was more than that. She was confident he knew they were on their way, if not their exact location. No, she wanted him to know that she was here, and that she wasn't afraid of him knowing her location, that she wasn't afraid of him.

The silhouette waved his staff once, twice. And from behind him, two high dragons made of the same purple energy as the spirit elves, appeared.

"Keep running!" Morrigan shouted as she and Kieran ran to the flanks and further.

"We got this." The tall boy gave them a confident smile.

In a manner of seconds, they had both turned into full grown high dragons of their own. Ready to clash in a battle of size, breath, and strength, in the air.

The group had no time to worry about the dragons, for on the hill in front of them, was half a dozen rows of elven soldiers, clad in metal armour and wielding slim swords and tall tower shields.

"A six layered shield wall, might be tough to break through" Aveline shouted as the approached and slowly got into formation as they got closer.

"I count roughly 40 men in each row." Warden Carver said

"Breaking through all three lines at once should be easy for the _human shaped battering ram_."

"I swear by the Maker I will kill that whore." Aveline mumbled. She charged and broke through the first four lines.

The first two thirds of the group was defeated with relative ease. Spells of fire and nature rained down upon in a storm of flames and lighting strikes. A quick throat cutter seemed to jump from shadow to shadow. And the four warriors formed a V shape led by Aveline, and Blackwall to one side, and The Iron Bull with the Inquisitor on the other side.

But they had all gotten a step to long away from each other, and the remaining elvhan warriors surrounded each of them.

Suddenly, all of the elvhan fell over, and was forced down, as if something was pinning them to the ground.

"I really can't believe that you would just leave without me." A feminine voice said.

She had her staff raised above her head, the tip pointing towards the hill, her other hand was straight in front of her, surrounded by an orange energy. Her robes told them she was a circle mage, and the signet on her felt told them that she was from the Kirkwall Circle.

"Sister!" Hawke exclaimed.

"Hello brother."

A thundering roar interrupted any conversation that might have followed that. Two dragons landed on each side of the hill, and the Herald's party just barely managed to jump down from it, before the trapped Elvhan was turned to ash.

From behind them, the bulk of the army marched, with Commander Cullen in the front, a long with Warden and King of Feralden; Alistair Theirin.

Two dragon tails, landed in front of the elite forces. Who stepped onto them, half on each. They were raised to stand on the heads. Lavellan swallowed a lump in her throat. It was a long time it was a decade ago since she had last been this close to Fen'Harel.

"Greetings, Inquisitor."

"Hello, Solas."

"I see you've gotten your arm back. I don't recall such a powerful mage in that little army of yours."

"It was the combined effort of a dozen mages; it was only because you advised me for the tower to be on mage study instead of an additional barracks."

"But it still lacks the most important part." His tone was neutral, but she felt like he was mocking her. "Do you honestly plan to defeat me without it?"

"Solas, you single minded goal have blinded you to the rest of the world." She raised her arm, and a familiar green glow erupted from it.

For the first time in ages, Solas felt true surprise. Not a surprise as something unexpected, but a the feeling one gets when you realize that everything you know is wrong.

"How is that possible!" Even The Dread Wolf could not hide the panic in his voice.

"We will defend this land; this world!" The Herald shouted as she clenched her first, thin blue lines was added to the green glow.

"We will defend it with everything we got! You will not take it from us!"

Above her, a fade rift opened in the sky, there was no crack or leak; she created a physical portal into the fade out of nothing but her own might. Solas took a step back. She was so much stronger than he had remember, predicted, and anticipated.

A wave of shock spread through every human, dwarf, ferelden, orlisian, antivan, elf, it spread through every single person on the battlefield.

A giant dark blue metal contraption has had emerged from the portal, levitating in the air. On top of the front was something akin to a glass window, and on it; two figures stood. Once was small and wore something that looked strange; something that could only be described as a skin tight full plate armour. She had a pale face with freckles, and red hair kept at chin length, it was blowing wildly in the wind. In her hands, she held an object that looked like a metallic blue crossbow, the closets comparison would be Varric's Bianca.

The other figure was at least a head taller, and she had a large object with her. She threw it overboard. It landed on the hill covered in ashes, but everyone could see what it was. It was the head of a giant demonic looking spider.

"Did you think a single demon could defeat just because it fed itself on fear! Did you think that just because it was called The Nightmare, that it could even touch me! Did you think I was called the Champion of Kirkwall for nothing!"

Garret Hawke stood on top of Kieran, in his dragon form, and felt tears on his face. It was 12 years ago, that he had left his sister in the fade so he could escape with the Inquisitor and the others. He had never gotten over it, and still grieved every year on the anniversary, he had believed her defeated by that demon.

The soldiers would probably think that she called out to Solas, but no. She called out to him; She somehow knew that he had presumed her death. Garrett knew only of one way to apologize. He took a deep breath so that his voice would carry itself across the giant battlefield that lay below his feat.

"She is not ordinary warrior, she is no ordinary woman. She is The Champion of Kirkwall! Slayer of the Arishok and Saviour of Mages! She is Marian Hawke and she is my sister!"

The last part came out as cries, for even the jolly blood mage could shed tears, and never before had he truly felt this happy to be alive.

"And I am not alone!" Marian cried and raised her sword as the shorter red-head raised her own weapon.

"I bring you, from a faraway land, Commander Shepard, and her flying ship: The Normandy!"

The cries of the inquisition forces was ear ringing, it was louder than the thundering voices of heaven, it was cries and shouts louder than the screams of hell. It a was the sound of a morality that could make peasants defeat fully trained Templars. It was a moral that hadn't been on Thedas since the time of The Lady Andraste: it was a moral that won wars. It had done it before and would do it again.

"Look me in the eyes, Solas" Shouted the Inquisitor as she stepped further onto the edge of Morrigans snout. She threw her helmet away.

"Look into my eyes and tell me, that we are not able to defeat you here and now. On this very day on this very blood soaked earth!"

Solas clenched his fist around his staff, as well as his teeth, for both of them knew, every soldier on the battlefield knew. That he couldn't do that.

There was a pause. The cries of soldiers had died down, and the only thing one could here was ones own breathing, and the wind howling across the plains. Everyone was waiting.

Everyone was waiting on a single elf. A single man capable of deciding whether or not any more blood should get soaked by the earth today.

After what seemed like a small eternity. His staff fell onto the ground.

"I know when to pick my fights, ma vhenan." If he had any heart left, he would have shed a tear, but he didn't, "and I do not want to make another mistake, not after thousands of years of thinking."


End file.
